


Venus As A Boy

by Morpheus626



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25062415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Had Venus As A Boy by Bjork on repeat for like a week when I wrote this and decided to do something with the energy it gave me, and I ended up here lol. Didn’t expect it to end up Sledgefu, but…it happened! The boys doing Very Serious and Seductive Art.
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Venus As A Boy

“You draw?”

“You know I do,” Eugene replied, his brow furrowed over the sketchpad in his hand, and readjusted on the couch he was sat on. “Don’t wiggle.” 

“You like it when I wiggle.” 

“Normally, sure, but not right now,” Eugene said absent-mindedly. “Tryin’ not to mess this up.”

Snafu nearly moved a leg, then didn’t. “You won’t.”

“You trust me that much?” 

“It’s just me…sitting in a chair…like I died in it or something. Can’t mess that up,” Snafu replied. 

“I bet I could.” 

“Shut up,” Snafu grinned. “Be a better picture if we made it more interesting.” 

Eugene raised an eyebrow as he put down another line for the texture of the chair. “And how would you do that?” 

“Can I show you?” 

Eugene kept his eyes on the sketch. “Sure.” 

He kept his eyes down, even as he heard Snafu moving. He was mostly just putting the chair down now anyway, so he could alter it as needed for whatever Snafu had planned. And he was curious, for sure. 

“Okay, tell me what you think.”

He looked up.

Snafu was nude, his clothes tossed away from the chair across the room, one of the cats already nesting in them. He lounged outstretched across the arms of the armchair, his neck tilted back so his Adam’s Apple stood out, his legs settled carelessly by each other, as if he sat that way every day. 

He looked like he ought to be carved for a sculpture, not depicted in a half-assed practice sketch. 

Snafu’s eyes were shut, but one popped open and looked at him. “You gonna keep going? I think I can hold this for awhile, but in case I can’t you might wanna start gettin’ it down now.” 

Eugene swallowed, and nodded. “Right.” 

Snafu giggled, and closed his eye again, readjusting just a bit. “Go for it, artist boy. You got this.”

He ignored the twitching of his cock in his trousers, and tried to focus on the page, to make the lines flow and match the absolute vision in front of him. How could he possibly do that justice?

It was difficult enough not to get distracted just looking at Snafu, watching the slow rise and fall of his lightly haired chest, the soft bit of pudge on his stomach (thanks to a combination of his mother’s recipes and their consistent inability to cut them down correctly, so they made enough for two people rather than for four or more.) The bit of curled dark hair at the base of his cock, which rested against one of his thighs. How his thighs looked so thin, but Snafu knew from experience were all muscle and sinew, strong when they wrapped around his back in bed. His calves delicate but just as strong, and his feet that, it never failed, would find their way under Eugene’s legs on the colder nights to keep warm. 

He was art, just sitting there in front of him. How could he replicate a masterpiece?

But he could try, if nothing else. And try he did, until his fingers and wrist started to hurt, until his hands were stained from his attempts at shading the way he needed it to be. Until Snafu finally made a sound. 

“Gene, it’s been like two hours. I gotta stretch for a second, okay?” 

He looked up as if he’d been smacked, and nodded. “Yeah, right. Really?”

Snafu smiled. “You’re so damn cute, you know that?” 

“Well, you’re beautiful.” 

Snafu blushed. “Shut it.” 

“You are. If you could have seen yourself a minute ago, you’d agree. If I can get this right, you’ll see what I mean, I promise. Forget my drawing, you could be in the museum yourself!” 

Snafu cackled. “Stop lyin’ to me like that. Sweet as it is.” 

“I mean it,” Eugene stressed, taking a moment to admire the scene as Snafu stretched his arms out, then turned and bent over to stretch his back. 

“Then I wouldn’t be here with you,” Snafu said. “That wouldn’t do at all. Can’t put in a museum, darlin’. Just gonna have to admire me here. Like a personal art collection.”

He yawned, then settled back into his pose on the chair. “How much is left, you figure?” 

Eugene sighed and hesitated. “Give or take another one to four hours?” 

Snafu snorted. “Should I assume four?” 

“Depends,” Eugene replied. “On if I keep gettin’ distracted with how pretty you are.” 

“Oh, go on.” 

“Don’t tell me that, I will. Then this’ll never get finished,” Eugene chuckled. “But you are. Incredibly. From a husband perspective, and an artist perspective.” 

“Good. I was afraid you might be biased,” Snafu said, his eyes shutting again. 

“You’re gonna fall asleep on me!” 

“I swear I will not,” Snafu said, before yawning again. “Just a comfy chair.” 

“What do you swear on?” 

“Your cute ass, how about that?” Snafu smirked. 

Eugene could think of plenty of things he wanted Snafu to do with his ass, but for now, swearing on it as a promise could work. 

After all, he had a sketch to finish. Though it was less a sketch now, and more a full-fledged drawing. 

He’d incorporated the window looking out to the backyard into the background, trying to better show texture on the wood flooring underneath the chair, to get every little detail he could. To make it as close to what he was seeing as possible. 

He zoned in again, only stopping when Snafu coughed. 

“Um. I have to piss. And it’s nearly…shit, lemme check my watch.” 

Snafu climbed out of the chair and retrieved his watch from his pile of clothes, the cat laying on them not disturbed by his rifling through them. “Evening now. We’ve been at this all afternoon.” 

“You go use the bathroom, then come back,” Eugene instructed. “I need to see your wrists, to make sure I got them right.” 

Snafu had let one hand rest behind his head, the other arm stretched down to just barely brush the floor, and Eugene needed to be sure he’d gotten the delicate look of Snafu’s wrist just so. It could be finished then, he’d decided. 

A few minutes later, Snafu wandered back in, and stood in front of him, a hand smelling of the soap by their bathroom sink stretched out. 

He took it carefully, turning it over as he examined Snafu’s wrist, looking for any missed detail. 

“Okay. We’re done.”

Snafu smiled. “Can I see?” 

Eugene patted the empty section of the couch beside him, and handed Snafu the sketchbook. 

Snafu’s eyes went wide. “This…I’m not…” 

“What?” 

Snafu chuckled. “I’m not that pretty. No way in hell.” 

“You are. You just don’t see it ‘cause you’re used to that face of yours, and you don’t see it the way everyone else does,” Eugene said. “I don’t draw things inaccurately.” 

Snafu nodded. “That’s certainly true of your bird sketches. But this…” 

“Is my best work yet, even if I couldn’t quite do you full justice,” Eugene interjected. “If I put this in an art show, I’d have to bring you with so they could see that the real thing is even more beautiful.”

Snafu kissed him softly, then handed the sketchbook back. “Can we frame it? I mean, that sounds vain, but you did a good job, and if we can’t show it off at an art show-” 

Eugene interrupted him with another kiss, and shook his head. “Some art for our private collection. Very rare.” 

“One in a million,” Snafu murmured, his eyes still shut as Eugene moved back from their kiss, his dark eyelashes fluttering when he opened them a moment later. “Just like you.”

They both agreed it wasn’t living room art (the questions they’d get from everyone weren’t worth it, better to decide who could see it and when) and so it took a place of honor in their room, on the wall opposite their bed. 

Eugene’s choice, that. He could look either way, and see Snafu no matter what.

And if that wasn’t the best personal art gallery he could get, then he didn’t know what would be.


End file.
